


Trust

by MemeKon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild D/S dynamic, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Undernegotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1809130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemeKon/pseuds/MemeKon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I, um,” he scratches the nape of his neck uncertainly, feels jittery, rubs his feet together, wiggles his toes; he feels more naked, more exposed than he's ever felt since he started having sex with Derek. Feels as out there as he can be, standing on the middle of a field waiting for something to happen. “I don't think I'm getting what's going on here?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission for the Mating Games' Non-penetrative challenge.

Stiles looks down at Derek, kneeling on the floor and looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.   
  
“I, um,” he scratches the nape of his neck uncertainly, feels jittery, rubs his feet together, wiggles his toes; he feels more naked, more exposed than he's ever felt since he started having sex with Derek. Feels as out there as he can be, standing on the middle of a field waiting for something to happen. “I don't think I'm getting what's going on here?”  
  
Derek frowns a little, then, seeming to come a bit out of this haze that seems to be enveloping him; Stiles sees him fidget, notices the way his dick jumps a little with the motions, heavy and fat already between his legs.  
  
“If you don't, if you don't want to do this we don't have to,” he says, voice gruff but vulnerable in that way that Stiles has learned to expect here, in these moments where Derek feels like he can lay himself bare in front of Stiles without fearing being spurned or manipulated, used for all his openness.

 

It's... It's always heart stopping, the knowledge that Stiles holds that much power over Derek, that Derek is trusting him with so much, placing so much in Stiles' hands for Stiles to just... do.   
  
It makes Stiles want to do good by him. Makes him want to be good, to not fuck this up.  
  
He puts his hand on Derek's face, drags it over his chin and bites his lip at Derek's responsiveness, at the way he blinks his eyes closed and his eyelids flutter, at the way he nuzzles into the touche, whole body seeming to melt onto Stiles' touch.  
  
He takes a deep breath and then he says, voice low and careful.  
  
“It's not that I don't want to, buddy, I'm just-- I'm just unclear on what's going on here? Words, remember? We have talked about giving those a try.”  
  
Derek looks up at him then, up through his eyelashes, and he brushes his lips over the palm of Stiles' hand, wet and soft.   
  
It tingles, makes Stiles' dick stir, makes it twitch, makes him want to press the palm of his hand against it to make it behave; or to just get his fist around it to jerk himself fast and punishing until he's coming all over Derek's face, all over his chest. Derek likes that, likes being covered in Stiles' spunk because he's a big weirdo with a thing for the scent of Stiles' come, for the weight and taste of it.  
  
Derek's eyes go down to Stiles' junk, to where Stiles is tenting his underwear and starting to soil the front of it, giving it a big, wet, filthy spot; Derek's nostrils twitch and he makes this choked whining sound that has Stiles' other hand going to Derek's shoulder, just to hold himself upright.  
  
“I want you to wreck me,” Derek says, and he leans forward, gets his mouth all over Stiles' clothed dick, mouths at it hungrily, “I want you to--,” he seems to have trouble articulating himself and he just buries his face nose first on Stiles' junk, tongue lapping at the wet spot over the tip of Stiles' dick, making him gasp.  
  
“You want me to what?” He prompts, raking the nails of the hand that's on Derek's shoulder up to his throat before he lies his hand there, just a reminder of Stiles' presence at the base of Derek's throat.  
  
“I want you to _use me_ ,” Derek gets out finally, hiding his face from Stiles' view, the muscles of his arms tightening next to his body; Stiles sees Derek's hands clenching and unclenching behind his back, where he's holding them together tightly, “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”  
  
Stiles' heart stops there for a second, and he's about to take a step back, to say _no_ , but Derek looks up at him with clear and determined hazel eyes, resting his head on Stiles' thigh.  
  
“I trust you.” He croaks out, like this is taking him so much effort. “And I _want you_ , and I want you to _trust me_.”  
  
Stiles' throat feels dry at that.   
  
He breathes deeply a few times to ground himself, and finally he nods.  
  
He moves the hand that had been resting at the base of Derek's throat, splayed and aimless, until it's a loose circle around it.  
  
Derek _groans_.  
  
Stiles' breath stutters as he nods again and licks his lips.  
  
“I trust you, too.” He says, voice low and raspy, and Derek's eyes fluttered closed as Stiles pressed his thumb lightly to his throat.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr!](http://memekon.tumblr.com)


End file.
